


I Know Her

by highheelsandchocolate



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Family Feels, POV Second Person, Poetic, Soulmates, True Love, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 00:17:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4458044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highheelsandchocolate/pseuds/highheelsandchocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of second-person Swan Queen vignettes from both Regina and Emma’s POV. Kinda fluffy. Kinda not. It’ll probably give you feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seeing Regina

The brunette. The mayor. The Queen.

But really she’s just Regina. 

* * *

_She’s angry._

Rigid shoulders tense.

Hands dig into her hips.

She tilts her chin upwards so that she can look down on you.

The corners of her eyes tighten until she’s practically squinting in her rage.

Her voice dropping until it’s just a growl deep within her throat.

The dominatingly regal command of a Queen.

Her lips snarl and the corner of her mouth twitches up ever-so-slightly.

It should look like a grimace.

But instead it’s almost like she’s suppressing some kind of sick and twisted smile.

Because she’s actually enjoying this.

This yelling at you.

This making you feel like you’re beneath her.

She likes being this angry.

It gives her somewhere to put her passion.

And it infuriates you to no end.

That she gets off on this kind of thing.

And the fact that she looks terrifyingly gorgeous when she’s this pissed off doesn’t help either.

It’s not fair.

The arrogant glint in her eyes makes you want to kiss her until she can’t even remember her own name.

But that’s what she wants.

So you don’t.

* * *

_She’s sad._

She’s crying in the corner of the shower again because she thinks you won’t notice over the noise of the water beating against her naked skin.

But you can hear the sobbing through the door.

You’ve caught her here before and decide not to intervene.

It’d just embarrass her.

But you also just can’t stand the sight of seeing her so broken again.

Wilted and crumpled up into the smallest possible ball she can manage.

As if she would do anything just to make herself disappear entirely.

The image makes your heart twist.

Mascara running down her palms as she covers her face with her hands.

Chest heaving as she knocks her head rhythmically against the tile.

Fingernails pulling at her hair.

Her tears mixing with the shower water until everything is wet, wet, wet.

Sad and dripping.

Helpless.

You know she doesn’t want you to see and so you sit outside the bathroom door and wait in silence.

Listening to her pain.

You hope that your presence will be enough.

* * *

_She’s scared._

Terrified really.

Her mask is up.

Jaw clenched and tight.

Eyebrows pulled together.

Arms folded over her stomach like she is physically keeping her organs from spilling out onto the ground in front of her.

Her voice is resilient but her breath hitches slightly as she waves excuses at the surrounding crowd.

The politician’s curse.

Her watery eyes are glistening.

Threatening to spill over.

And then suddenly she encroaches on your personal space and just stares at you.

Begging you to help her.

To save her.

But she doesn’t know what she needs.

Except that you’re the one to do it.

You say yes without speaking the words.

Yes to anything she wants.

But your mouth twitches up in a dejected smile to show her that you don’t know what to do either.

But you’re here for her.

Whatever she decides.

She nods curtly and marches away.

Pretending to be strong again.

She’ll tell you when she chooses.

* * *

_She’s happy._

You’ve lost count of how many hours she’s been sitting on the floor.

Helping Henry with that school project.

She couldn’t care less about the copious amount of glue stuck to her hands.

Or the miniscule paint flecks now decorating her shirt.

She’s beaming.

Glowing.

If eyes could actually sparkle you’d swear that hers would be doing that right now.

Or maybe they’d be dancing.

And then there’s that heart-breaking smile that nearly splits her face in two.

Starkly red lips pulling back over crisp white teeth.

You always seem to forget just how wide it is.

How much joy her face can actually hold when it’s allowed to.

She’s breathtaking.

And when she smiles…

The faint scar above her lip practically disappears.

* * *

She’s underneath you.

Scratching her fingernails into your back to make angry red lines.

Biting her plump bottom lip so hard that you think she might draw blood.

She’s trying not to moan.

Her control issues just make her that much more fun to unravel.

She throws her head back in rapture and you kiss the column of her throat.

It’s still purple from when you marked her before.

A breathy noise escapes her anyway.

Her leg snakes around your hip and pulls you closer.

You plunge into her again and again and again.

Whispering that she’s beautiful.

Filling her with your light.

Until she’s shaking.

Quaking.

And stars explode inside her brain.

Hooded eyelids glaze over and she cums quietly in your arms.

A silent implosion that only you get to see.

Teeth sunk into your shoulder.

Death grip in your hair.

And then the lazy smile that warms your heart on the coldest of days.

She knows.

_She’s loved._


	2. Seeing Emma

The blonde. The sheriff. The Savior.

But she prefers to just be Emma. 

* * *

_She’s angry._

A shadow passes over her eyes.

Dimming her shine.

Rage.

You’d recognize it anywhere.

Her forehead furrows.

Her chest heaves.

Her arms flail haphazardly as her fury shoots off in all directions.

She’s screaming belligerently at you.

Shrieking.

Screeching.

She really needs to learn to control herself.

She’s practically spitting in your face.

You receive one hard poke to your breastbone.

But your face remains impassive, if not mildly amused.

She’s so furious that you think she might actually hit you this time.

Good.

But then the Charming in her starts to seep forward.

Pulling her back from that dangerous ledge she’s teetering on.

She seethes in front of you for a moment.

Her fists clench.

The tendons in her forearms bunching in preparation.

You know she wants to.

But then she turns on her heel and storms away.

Kicking one of your flowers in the face as she leaves.

It’s quite annoying really.

She hates being the better person sometimes.

* * *

_She’s sad._

She’s not talking to you.

She’s just sitting there.

Staring blankly at the TV screen.

Flipping through the channels out of habit.

But her eyes are unfocused and you can tell that she’s not looking at what’s in front of her.

It’s like she’s watching her thoughts go by.

Her face falls a little more.

You want to walk behind her and place a gentle kiss in her hair.

To assure her.

That everything’s going to be fine.

But you don’t.

Because that’s not who you are.

And that’s not who she is.

You are not those kind of people.

She needs her space.

The gesture would probably just make her angry.

She likes to think she doesn’t need the affection.

A heavy sigh escapes her and she sinks even deeper into the couch cushions.

You don’t feel the need to shatter her illusion. 

* * *

_She’s scared._

The expression is blown all over her face.

Wide and wild eyes meet yours.

She works her throat and tries to swallow multiple times but she can’t.

Her mouth doesn’t have any spit.

She gapes in her attempt to find words and fails.

She worries.

She panics.

She places all her fears in you.

You are her weak spot.

But you are also her rock.

She paces incessantly.

Pulling restlessly at her curls.

Her body doesn’t know how to deal with all of the emotions raging inside of her and now she’s ricocheting around your foyer like a ping-pong ball.

Completely at a loss of what to do.

So you’re caught a little off guard when she suddenly crashes into you.

Wrapping her arms around you so tightly that you can’t breathe.

Crushing you in a desperate hug.

Clinging to you.

Seeking shelter from herself.

From the world.

Your body is stiff for only a millisecond before you’re holding her to you.

Your hands pressing into her back.

Clutching her closer.

Keeping her close.

Her face buries in your neck and through the tangle of hair you can feel your shoulder becoming wet.

Your arms could break from how hard you smash in her into you.

You will always protect the Savior.

Always.

* * *

_She’s happy._

Her laughter bursts through the mild din of the diner.

Boisterously so and at a wholly inappropriate decibel given the time of day.

You just want your coffee.

You try to ignore it.

To give them their space.

But you find yourself glancing in their direction anyway.

Her smile lights up her face.

Rounding out her features until her cheeks are rosy and shining.

Angels could model their appearance after her.

She looks like sunlight on a cloudy day.

Her eyes gleam with mirth as she listens to Henry rant on and on about his newest obsession.

Her fist propping up her chin in a nonchalant manner.

At one time this would have made you jealous but now it only makes your heart flutter.

You hope she doesn’t make him late for school.

Her eyes catch yours as your order is filled.

She winks.

You blush and reluctantly make your way back to the office. 

* * *

She’s swearing.

A lot.

This is a good thing.

Her fingernails dig into your scalp as she pulls on your hair.

Asking for more.

You gladly acquiesce.

You devour between her thighs and suddenly another expletive catapults from her panting lips.

You grin.

You lick and suck and pleasure.

Getting lost in her happiness.

Nipping at her hips.

Until you’re thankful that your son is at a sleepover tonight.

Her eyes slam shut.

Her spine arches.

Her long legs quiver on either side of your head.

She trembles under your touch.

And you can’t get enough.

Even after she cums you keep going.

You tip her over the edge again and again and again.

Until she’s shuddering so uncontrollably that you have to press yourself into her to get her to stop.

You nuzzle your face into her hair.

She kisses your neck lightly just under your jawbone and you know she knows.

_She’s loved._


	3. Seeing Swan Queen

The mayor and the sheriff. The Savior and the Queen. Storybrooke’s two most powerful witches.

The dueling mothers of one Mr. Henry Swan-Mills. 

* * *

_They’re angry._

You can hear the screaming from a block away.

Emma is storming out of the mayor’s mansion, yelling obscenities as she stomps down the path towards the gate.

Regina appears in the doorway, issuing threats and fuming in her pencil skirt.

The blonde whips back around to glare.

The brunette returns the gesture with a snarl.

Emma flips her off.

And then suddenly apples tracking streams of purple smoke through the air are pummeling the sheriff in a downpour of fury.

Knocking bruises into her skin.

Emma swears and sprints for the yellow bug parked on the curb.

She ducks and swerves and, using the car as a barrier, leans over the hood to launch a hex of her own at the mayor.

Regina huffs in indignation and slams the door shut before the spell can hit her.

The magic bolt bursts into white sparks against the doorframe instead.

Emma swears again.

Leroy grumbles about the insanity of women and continues toward the pub. 

* * *

_They’re sad._

Regina is sitting in front of you not speaking.

Hands curled in her lap.

Mask of indifference firmly in place.

Eyes purposefully avoiding eye contact by staring out the adjacent window.

Emma didn’t show up with her today.

You’re sure the blonde is just as unhappy sulking in the sheriff’s station right now.

Slouching in her uncomfortable metal chair.

Eyebrows pulling together.

Pretending to find the wood grain of her desk particularly fascinating.

These two really have no idea how to talk about their feelings.

But they do need each other.

Regina insists that this is ridiculous and unnecessary.

With a second thought she flippantly adds something about Emma acting like a child.

You can hear the hurt in her voice before she marches out of your office.

Archie regretfully crosses their names off of his schedule forty-five minutes before their session was supposed to end. 

* * *

_They’re scared._

Regina looks like she’s ready to run.

Emma not far behind her.

They’re having dinner together.

At Granny’s.

In public.

Alone.

Without Henry as a disguise.

The mayor sits rigid and stiff, her shoulders pressed back to make her feel superior.

Emma is hunching a little, trying to make her presence go unnoticed.

Nobody really cares.

Eventually Regina starts to breathe and Emma sits up a little straighter.

Forks clink and disappear into mouths.

A napkin wipes at the corner of a lip.

They bicker.

They pick at each other.

They laugh.

You raise an eyebrow at this.

It’s nice to see them both unwind.

They look good together.

You watch their fingers tangle underneath the table.

Like a secret.

Regina’s high heel tracks a path up the blonde’s leg.

Emma leans over the table.

You watch the brunette’s gaze jump down your friend’s shirt before it refocuses.

Emma whispers something into her ear.

Regina’s eyes darken.

Ruby smirks as the mayor abruptly stands up and announces that she’s paid the tab in full, before hastily dragging the grinning sheriff out of the diner by the hand.

* * *

_They’re happy._

Emma sneaks up behind your mom in the kitchen and wraps her arms around her waist.

She kisses her on the cheek.

Your mom smiles and chuckles in her throat a little.

She’s making pizza.

She never used to let you eat it.

And she still won’t let you eat it if it comes from a box.      

But now she makes it for you and Emma herself.

And it tastes better than that box stuff anyway.

You assume Emma moves her hands because suddenly your mom squeaks in surprise.

She shimmies out of your other mother’s arms.

Her chastising scowl is teasing instead of menacing.

Something about not in front of our son.

Emma hides her blush with a shrug.

Then quickly steals a pepperoni and shoves it into her mouth.

Her face a snarky challenge as she turns to leave.

Your mom grabs your mother by the shirt and plants a kiss on her lips.

Smacks her on the butt and tells her to go clean up.

Emma listens.

Your mom glances in your direction.

Henry smiles down at his homework and pretends that he hasn’t seen a thing.

* * *

They’re standing near the docks.

Their hands are grasped in each other’s and their torsos are too close together for your liking.

They’re not upset, just serious.

Intense.

They are disagreeing intensely with each other.

And you can’t hear what they’re saying from this far away.

Regina’s face is stern where Emma’s is imploring.

And after a few more muttering lip movements you can’t understand, the mayor bows her head and stares at the ground in surrender.

Emma leans forward and kisses her on the forehead.

The wind off of the bay picks up.

Blonde curls blow away from Emma’s face while masking the expression on the brunette’s.

The sheriff lifts Regina’s chin until their eyes meet.

More words are said that you cannot hear.

And then the Queen eclipses the distance between them by kissing her Savior squarely on the mouth.

Magic swirls around their intertwined fingers.

Snow White sighs reluctantly.

_They’re in love._

 

_**Fin.** _


End file.
